


Safe Word

by MissEmmanuelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Male Submissive, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/pseuds/MissEmmanuelle
Summary: Sansa has deep seated issues she needs to work on thanks to a recent trauma from being mugged in an alley. But sometimes, it takes more than just therapy.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Safe Word

**Author's Note:**

> When you watch something (not telling you what it is) and it screams Jonsa and won’t let you rest until you let it out.. another sub/Dom jonsa fic with Sansa holding the whip this time.

_Dove_.

 _Little bird._ Those are the words that spring to mind as Sansa sees the forms before her. It is strange, having to fill out forms and giving strangers a piece of her life before she gives all of herself to another. _Well, almost._

 _He did come highly recommended_. Sansa looks out the window from the lounge sofa she finds too comfortable to be filling out forms in.

Also, this is a sex club.

“You will keep my details private, right? I mean, I’m here because.. you know,” Sansa’s voice trails off, wondering if she should explain at all. The lady with bright purple hair and blonde streaks looks up from Sansa’s forms, only to smile at her, subtly hinting how she has encountered many a red-faced first timers like Sansa. _Only thing, this time it’s different. I’m different. Not like the rest_ , Sansa mumbles in a small voice in her mind.

“Miss Stark, I can assure you have our strictest confidence. Besides, your therapist made a call earlier this week to let us know about… your case. Don’t worry, she didn’t say anything, she just asked for Jon to help you. And that’s enough for us to know. And, yes this is only between you and us,” the lady assures, the piercing on her lower lip quivering as she smiles again at Sansa.

_Oh right, yes. My case._

Sansa nods and glances at the black tinted glass doors behind the counter. Sansa wonders what awaits her, come the day when it beckons.

“We’ll give you a call once we’ve set up your appointment. You’ll hear from us in a few days.”

Sansa heaves a sigh of relief and manages a polite grin. “Right, thank you. I’ll.. wait for your call then, Miss Val,” Sansa addresses her after a quick glance at the name plate. Val nods and waves her goodbye and calls for the next one in line. Sansa gathers herself and leaves, regretting what fresh hell she had gotten herself into.

The hours ticked by at first when Sansa found herself in bed and staring at the ceiling. When sleep finally came, the nightmares took over. Sansa had tried everything from herbs, to tinctures and sleeping aids. None helped, because none of these, not even the anti-anxiety medication gave her the peace that was robbed from her, one fateful night in an alley. There were so many things Sansa realised, in retrospect, how the night could have gone differently. If she had taken the train instead of walking to the bus stop, if she went home on time instead of staying back an hour later, if she hadn’t answered that goddamned phone call from her ex. But it only wrecked her inside and turned her stomach into knots every time she walks down that particular memory lane. Six months later, Sansa still finds herself in her nightmares, crawling in that alley, bruised, battered and mugged.

Seeing a therapist was the last resort. Describing and reliving the experience again was painful but gradually it eased, no longer was Sansa sobbing at the end of a session, thanks to Dr Carr, her therapist whom had provided an outlet Sansa didn’t know she needed. Slowly, the sessions grew less arduous. The nightmares lessened somewhat though haven’t ceased completely. Perhaps it was only thing that caused great concern, seeing what little sleep she’d been getting. _Six months since a deep, restful sleep,_ Sansa recalls.

“There’s a deep anger that needs to be resolved. Pure rage that I feel needs to be addressed here, Sansa. As someone, I think, who rarely expresses such an emotion, I can imagine this must be quite difficult for you,” Dr Carr suggests, tapping the end of her pen onto her notepad. Sansa sighed as she brushes off some imaginary fluff from her skirt.

“Might I suggest something? You might think this is quite strange but I feel it can be freeing for you. It’s.. an acquired taste and you don’t have to if you don’t want to but perhaps you may want to consider letting all this anger out? On someone.. who is willing?”

Sansa raises her eyebrow at the _‘willing’_ part. “You mean find someone to beat up?”

A wistful tilt of the head tells Sansa only one thing. “I don’t recommend this method to anyone but I feel that you, Sansa, will find that it helps. I’ll write down the address so you can decide for yourself. Now, before you say anything, I’d like you to approach this with an open mind. As open as you can possibly be.”

“What is it that you suggest, Dr Carr? I’m all ears.”

 _An address with a name. Jon Snow. Château Noir._ Sansa answers back with a questioning glance. _Sounds mysterious. Another therapist? Am I that hopeless?_

“He’s highly recommended. I heard of him from someone in my circle. He does… very particular work. And he has helped one of my former patients it seems, last I heard. So, moving forward.. I think you might want to try him.”

 _To do what exactly?_ This is uncharted territory. Sansa’s mind wanders off to the darkest bits she was brave enough to muster.

“He’s.. a provider of services for a small part of the community, whom I suppose require an outlet for their.. inclinations.”

Sansa’s eyes widens at the statement and Dr Carr quickly adds, “Please, bear in mind that I do not in any way think that you have such inclinations but rather, been pushed against your own free will to a corner you no longer have space to move in. And it is affecting you more than you can cope. Am I right to say that? And I think one of the ways we can break out of that space.. is to face it head on, in a safe and controlled environment. I heard he’s very professional. Would you at least think about it?”

 _Seven o'clock._ As always, she is on the dot. Sansa fidgets with her jacket, hoping she was properly dressed for .. her meeting. A good sized room filled with contraptions Sansa thought she’d only seen in movies. The kind with mediaeval torture segments. Sansa quickly realises how this was probably a bad idea. But she had paid for it, that and also not wanting to face a disappointed Dr Carr, after the arrangements she had made.

Together, they both had made good progress; this is just a step further, she thinks. Still, torture devices aside, it was a cozy room otherwise for conversation if nothing happens. _If_ she doesn’t want anything to happen, that is. Sansa finds some small comfort how the lighted candles seem to brighten up the otherwise dim room, and a soft scent lingers in the air. _Sandalwood? Rose?_ Sansa tries to guess, occupying herself while waiting.

The door creaks. A head of inky black curls and a boyish smile greets her. Sansa gasps. He isn’t at all like how she imagined. _And good-looking. Dr Carr didn’t mention that._

“You must be Sansa Stark. From Dr Carr’s office?”

Sansa nods and gingerly reaches out to meet his hand. She quickly looks away, out of courtesy. Perhaps also out of shyness and embarrassment. _Quite the impression, and straight to business._

The harness strapped across his broad sinewy shoulders and chest made her jaw drop. And the crotchless leather trousers. _Good thing he has briefs on,_ as Sansa’s eyes dart back to the floor.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jon Snow. And I’ll be your sub tonight. At your service, whatever you need.”

Sansa sucks in a deep breath and blinks at the sight before her. _All right no conversations then. Willing party. For fuck’s sake, get over yourself and get it over with._

“Umm.. okay. Right.. oh, do you have.. a safe word?” Sansa remembers to ask, putting her bag down and removing her stifling jacket. He smiles again, his eyes shining in the poor light of the room. They gleam with anticipation. Somehow, Sansa had a feeling he had been waiting for her arrival, the moment she stepped into his lair. His castle. Strangely, not an ounce of fear filled her body, but something else entirely. Something hot and heady, as her breathing quickens.

“Well, thank you for asking. I do have one. It’s.. crow.”

Sansa watches him slide across the room to a standing handle bar that stood chest high. A pair of shackles sit ominously on the handle, waiting to clamp on the next poor soul.

“Okay. But.. hold on. Don’t you want to ask me questions? Sorry this is my first time, I don’t know how this works,” Sansa apologizes as Jon stands behind the handle bar.

“Ahh, yes of course. But later, if you’d like. Sometimes, thinking about it, hampers.. the process. I know it is your first time. Don’t worry, I’ll lead you into it. Just.. tell me what you want to do, how do you feel and why you’re here. At least that gets the ball rolling, no?”

“Well.. well-I’m here because I need to let some anger out,” Sansa stammers, suddenly feeling very large, self-conscious and awkward.

“Okay.. and why are you angry? Did someone take something from you?” Jon prods, his voice and tone as soothing as Dr Carr’s.

“Yes.. yes. And he hurt me… He beat me. He left me for dead in an alley.. I had to crawl home, no one helped me..”

Jon keeps quiet as he watches Sansa, his heart slightly heavy. _Poor girl. All the more she needs this_ , he thinks.

Sansa stops, the rage Dr Carr was talking about had finally reared its head. Ugly and snarling and all Sansa wanted to do was to smash its head in. Indeed, this is exactly what she needs.

“Well then, Mistress. Shall we begin?”

Sansa looks up from the floor and sees Jon already shackled to the handle bar.

And a loosely coiled whip hanging at one end.

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot, I leave the rest to your imagination because I think.. we all have different versions how this could go.. 💦 and unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to explore these visions and putting them into words lol.
> 
> Note: Dr Wendy Carr is a character who is a psychologist on Mindhunter and I adore her (and aspire to be like her one day). So much so that she deserves a place in my fics lol. Sorry, she’s not an oc 😂 if you’re wondering.


End file.
